The Birth, the Life of Armus
by pongun
Summary: Somewhat wangsty tribute to my favorite tragic character of TNG - he's not evil because he wants to be, he just is. And evil tends to build on itself as people's revulsion adds to the hurt and the hate. This was kicking around in my head for awhile, and this is a basic unleashing of the concept. I'm always up for constructive criticism to grow my skills.


Long ago, a race of beings with technology far beyond our own and a level of enlightenment rare in the universe realized that their baser instincts were holding them back. They had replaced poverty with abundance of every resource. They had replaced war and crime with understanding and temperance. They had replaced hate with love of one's fellow beings, and their people worked to make life mutually better for everyone instead of the animalistic quest for selfish gain.

But inside themselves, they realized there was still evil. Beings would look at each other and see enemies to be conquered. The desire to take sexual gratification from others, consenting or not, was still inside. The quest to have more than one's neighbor still flowed within, and in the conversations that most would never have that desire sometimes manifested in thoughts of more violent ways to take from one's neighbor. While socially unacceptable and all but never practiced, this was still a part of their nature.

It was a part that laughed at their attempts to do the right thing. Its amusement at moral quandaries bubbled whenever the easier way wasn't the right way - and it had no particular concept of rightness. To this part of their nature, all that mattered was gratification.

As the species voted to extricate their best selves from their worst, the evil inside felt no fear of this. For a time, it didn't believe good and evil could exist separately from one another. As the theologians explained that good and evil must only coexist cosmically, and not in concert with one another, its mind was unswayed. The separation process was not instantaneous, and intelligence came slowly as the evil began to ooze from the uber-people. As this insight grew to the point of self-awareness, and finally the subvocalization of individual thoughts, the evil began to realize that it had under-estimated the persistence of those who wished to be rid of it.

Gathering within the land as the uber-people ascended into ultimate beauty, the evil looked up as those who had once given it quarter left. It had no idea where they were going, and individual plans are so wont to change that it paid little heed to such discussions. All it knew was that with each passing day, there were less individuals willing to listen to its declarations of wanting - and just as quickly were those even capable of hearing it disappearing. In time, the land was littered with the residue of evil, darkening the ground across entire continents. As it congealed, forming something that might be seen as an individual entity, it began to question its existence.

What is there to take by force, when one possesses ultimate power? Animals ran as quickly as they could upon the evil's arrival. Regardless of its intentions, in time it grew to see fear as nothing but a game. Though it could travel swiftly, the speed of fear was even faster. Striking at animals in aggravation, populations stood no chance against the immortal entity. In time, ecosystems were ravaged by the anger the evil felt. If no creature would be near the entity by their intention, their corpses would cover the ground and the evil would be near them by its choice.

In time, the evil coalesced around the name of a figure from the uber-people's history: Armus. It would take this name, the last theft of a society without want - the last theft of a society without members. Armus traveled about the desolate world, slaughtering to alleviate boredom and striking terror to inspire some sort of feeling.

No one knows what became of the uber-people, and neither does history remember the name of their species. Armus wrecked and consumed all of their records, learning vast amounts about the people who had defeated him. What Armus initially considered a victory by attrition became a resounding defeat as he realized that, whether they had balance in their love or not, there is no balance in hate.

In time, all the destruction in a world will not spread the rage far enough to dissipate its effects. The sickly rush of causing harm and inspiring fear holds none of its seductive charm when there is no one to harm, and no one to be made afraid.

From time to time, attempts to colonize the surface of the vacated world came and failed. Armus rarely even had to kill the attempted colonists. The darkness of his visage, his booming voice and his manner of speaking had the effect of frightening most civilizations. The peaceful quickly learned of what he was, and wanted nothing to do with him. Some actually tried to attack him, and they were swiftly dealt with. If there is one thing evil knows, it is violence.

Armus was a being of hate, and could know nothing of love. It could witness the love between others, could even sense thoughts of concern and devotion among the sentient species he tormented. But what hope is there for receiving love when there is none inside to give? For a cycle far longer than most could hope to live, he pondered this notion.

In time, the way he came to see the uber-people was partly shame, partly envy and primarily a sense that they had abandoned him instead of seeking his strengths. Perhaps they lived on as gods, and perhaps they lived only until another evil caught up to them. Armus could only speculate on what had befallen his progenitor species, but he knew that not all wants are violent. Inside, he eventually discovered that either there had been a flaw in their logic or an issue with their technique.

Armus could feel love. Armus had love to give, and the mutual desire to receive it. But none would accept these needs, and most either fled his presence or took offensive action to stir his rage far too swiftly to even attempt understanding.

In time, one can suppress anything. The pain of being abandoned by those who had created him? What pain? The loneliness of being the only sentient he could communicate with? What loneliness? The sadness of being shed as a worthless thing by the gods? What sadness? When one is the sole audience and the sole narrator, one has sole rein over the story.

Still, the festering inside fed the evil a diet of more evil. In time, Armus's screams of anguish no longer reverberated across the plains and left the mountaintops without further erosion. The time to wait had begun. Armus could not predict what he might be waiting for, but the urge for revenge against those who could love and be loved was as good a focal as any.

So he waits. And he languishes in a kingdom where there is no ruler and where there are no subjects.


End file.
